Losing Is Far Worse than Wanting
by Selte H. Ryor
Summary: A follow-up to KCS's However Improbable, because I needed some K/S resolution to the angst!


A/N: A follow-up, of sorts, to KCS's incredible fic However Improbable, which you should probably read before reading this one. A huge hug to sherlockian-of-the-shire on tumblr for her help and support!

* * *

In the two days, seven hours, and thirty-six seconds since they had beamed back from Aeternus, Spock had become increasingly worried about the Captain. While it was not unusual for him to be quieter than normal following a difficult mission, which this one certainly was, withdrawal of the caliber currently being expressed by his...friend was highly unusual. He could only conclude it was the memories of the prior trip through the Guardian making a reappearance; after all, his own mental and physical state had recovered substantially in the day following the return of Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson to their own time, so it would not be logical for Jim to still be concerned about his well-being. That being said, the Captain had been...avoiding him, for lack of a better term, since their arrival back on board the Enterprise, and as First Officer it was his duty to ensure smooth communication between himself and the Captain, as well as ensure the Captain's health remained stable.

After a fruitless search of Kirk's main haunts, Spock found him in the forward Observation Deck, staring listlessly into space. He started when Spock walked in, but turned around and offered his First a tired grin nonetheless. "Evening, First Officer," he sighed. "What can I do for you?"

Spock took a seat beside his Captain, not so close as to compromise either of their preferred limitations on physical contact, but close enough to indicate that he was speaking as a friend, not as a fellow Starfleet officer. "Jim, you seem to be more reserved than normal following a mission. In fact, I have only observed this particular behavior in you on four previous occasions. Do you need for me to alert Doctor McCoy?"

Kirk smiled wearily. "No, Spock, I'm fine. It's just...the mission, it took a toll on the Enterprise, and on you," he said, ducking his head to keep Spock from seeing the tears that were threatening to spill. The last three words were muttered, almost unintelligibly, but the half-Vulcan picked up on them, and their meaning, regardless.

"I can assure you that I am in good health. The good Doctor was rather overzealous in his administration of hyposprays, but my mind has duly recovered and I am functioning at peak efficiency. In addition, the Enterprise is in the capable hands of Mr. Scott, and there are very few areas of the ship that are not fully recovered."

"I know that, Spock. We're lucky we didn't suffer more damage than we did. Regardless, what Moriarty did...what he used his capabilities to do...it was inexcusable. Controlling that many people, inflicting pain upon you and Dr. Watson, those wounds don't heal overnight."

"Sir, I am perfectly-"

"No, you're not, Spock." Kirk took a deep breath before turning to face his friend and trusted First, without realizing that the action would put them within a few inches of one another. "I told you, during Pon Farr, that if I had to lose you I wanted to know why. You're still the best First Officer in the Fleet, and I still don't want to lose you for obvious professional reasons- we make an impeccable team, and you know it- but you're...more than that, now. We've been through too much for you to be just a shipmate to me, Spock." Kirk looked back at the stars, anywhere that wasn't the piercing gaze of his First. "You're my friend. My closest friend, if I'm honest. And Moriarty invaded your mind, invaded your privacy in ways no one should ever have to endure, least of all you, and almost killed you. I can't get over that like I can the average planetside mission."

Throughout Kirk's speech, Spock had been completely still, not wanting to interrupt his Captain, but now he reached out and touched Kirk's shoulder. "Jim, look at me." When Kirk didn't move, Spock gently turned his chin until they were eye to eye. "Jim, I do not wish to lose you either. You must understand this. However, our jobs involve a certain degree of danger that results in the odds being against our making it out of these five years unscathed. There is nothing either of us could have done to stop Moriarty." At this, Kirk opened his mouth to speak, but Spock cut him off. "Even if we had both stayed in that cell, there did nothing you could have done to prevent Moriarty's attack on my mind. I would not have allowed you to, do you understand?" Kirk nodded his head imperceptibly. "The chances of you surviving such an attempt were too small to justify the risk. We both have to, I believe you humans say, 'bury the past', and move on."

Kirk smiled faintly. "You always know just what to say, Mr. Spock."

"I have become rather good at reading you, Jim."

A sigh permeated the comfortable silence that lay upon them. "Spock, I don't think I can. Move on, I mean. What if I lose you for real sometime? What if there is no miracle the next time you get yourself injured on a mission?" Kirk buried his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to burden you with this. You can go, if you want. I'll be fine."

Spock grasped the human's wrists in both his hands- how fragile they were, these humans; he could snap the bones without a second thought if he wanted to- and gently pried Kirk's hands away from his face until he could see his eyes, usually so full of life but now clouded and dark. "There are no guarantees in life, t'hy'la. I can, however, promise you this: I will endeavor to remain by your side, regardless of circumstance. After all, if we believe Ms. Keeler, that is where I belong."

Kirk gave Spock another weak smile, and looked down at their now-joined hands; during the course of his speech Spock had flipped his hands so that they were gripping Kirk's hands instead of his wrists. Suddenly his gaze snapped up to meet Spock's, energy almost palpable between them. "Mr. Spock, you called me t'hy'la just a moment ago. Care to tell me what that means?" His eyes led a dangerous glint now, one that Spock recognized as the same one that was present whenever Kirk saw an opening in a chess game or figured out a way to outwit the enemy during a mission. Spock sighed. There was no excuse for his slip of the tongue, but he knew from experience that there was no use lying, especially not to this amazing human.

"It's a Vulcan word, meaning brother or friend."

"That's not all it means, though, Mr. Spock, or else you wouldn't seem so reluctant to tell me."

Spock sighed again. He could never understand how Kirk understood him so well; by all odds they should tolerate each other, at best, yet their relationship had become an integral part of Spock's life. It was inexplicable, but to deny the truth would be illogical, and he owed it to this man to tell him the full truth. "It does have a third meaning. It can also mean...lover. T'hy'la is often a combination of all three meanings, used to describe someone who is one's soulmate, I believe is the closest Standard word."

"And what definition did you use for me, Spock?" Kirk knew that he was pushing slightly, but he had to know if the desire for his First that had been building since he started this five-year mission was reciprocated.

"To me, Jim, you are t'hy'la in the full sense of the word. I am aware that you probably do not return my sentiments, and I apologize if this strains our friendship in any-"

He was cut off by a warm mouth covering his, surprisingly gentle considering the obvious passion its owner possessed. "I assure you, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, eyes twinkling for the first time since they left the Guardian for the second time, "your sentiments are fully reciprocated. I think that we might want to move this elsewhere, however."

"I concur with your judgement, Captain," Spock said, eyes bright with emotion. "I believe the human expression is, your place or mine?"

* * *

When Dr. McCoy went to check on Kirk the next morning, the ensigns passing by outside were treated to the sight of a very flustered Chief Medical Officer bolting out of the Captain's quarters, muttering something about brain bleach and the beneficial aspects of whiskey.


End file.
